


Dream to Die

by OOOOshirkeOOOO, Virgil (alucard1771)



Category: Natural Born Killers (1994), True Detective
Genre: Angst, Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1515755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OOOOshirkeOOOO/pseuds/OOOOshirkeOOOO, https://archiveofourown.org/users/alucard1771/pseuds/Virgil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suppose Mickey Knox had never met Mallory but slaughter all the way on his own until finally ran into Rustin Cohle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream to Die

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Dream to Die](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499549) by [Dustyrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dustyrain/pseuds/Dustyrain). 



 

 

 

1.

Mickey Knox always believes in fate.

It makes his life extremely simple and complicated. It’s like having two persons standing before him, the ammo is enough for two, and the only problem left is to decide which one to shoot first——he may need to flip a coin for this. The heads for the left one, the tails, the other.

This also works when the two persons are standing in the front or at the behind, or in whatever other directions. It doesn't matter. As long as he breathes, he has the right to choose. Just like now he was standing beside the counter of a convenience store in a stormy night, facing the two totally shocked bare-handed. He had enough bullets for two. But before he could flip the coin, a gunshot suddenly came to his ear out of nowhere. 

That was how he met Rustin Cohle.

 

2.

He fired towards the outside almost instantly after he was shot. The thing the other guy holding was no more than a normal pistol, nothing to compare with the one Mickey had in his hand, not in size or in caliber. Usually it makes him so proud that he wanna blow a whistle for it, but not right now. Anyway, he believed it was not the gun that mattered, it was luck. It was fate. That one in his shoulder was a through-and-through. Just a little bit further, the bullet would probably have gone directly into his neck. He could only imagine how bad he might look if that happens.

After forcing a self-dwelled doctor to treat his wound and robbing medicines off him, he put a bullet in the doc's head and made the house a temporary residence. The fridge was emptied for other use. All the vegetables and graham breads lying on the chopping board simply made him sick. He hates those fake vegetarians, but unfortunately runs into them every time he needs meat. Goddamn it, the fucking fate.

 

3.

He was tossing and turning in bed in the thunderstorm night. The wound was burning like someone was pouring boiling oil on it. He thought this might be a sleepless night, but unfortunately he passed out on it due to pain and uncomfortableness.

He had his nightmare. It broke him like always, causing greater pain to his mind than to his body. He feared that thing, the large-face monster that lived in the forest, with its long ears, black eyes, fluffy furs, and the big red Santa hat on its head. It frightened him so much that he might forget to eat for days and would rather bury himself under the ground. As a result, he was awakened in cold sweat by his own scream. Bouts of thunder were rumbling outside the window, frightening flashes were blocked by the lightproof curtain. His eyes were widely open, and the pain from his shoulder kept him awake all night.

 

 

4.

He saw the wanted photo of his from the cable. The convenience store shot into a mess were crowded with police. The two lucky survivors were not on screen. A tall and slim guy wrapped in a coat was standing on the edge of the scene, staring at the blood Mickey left on the ground in silence.

Mickey raised himself from the couch and walked to a position not far from the television. The man on screen had a curly brown hair, seemingly soft and very touchable, his eyes were calm, and his body was slim but strong, just like the way he was when they first met. Yeah, those were the words. He did not see any conflict in that. He reached out his hand to touch the screen, but the man in it was already gone. 

 

5.

Sometimes he would drag the scene of his first murder from memory. He could not even remember the exact date, but he could still saw the withered but calm man with the brown curly hair. Those eyes hesitated him for a long while before he could pull the trigger. He saw his own shadow in it.

“Goodbye.” He said. The shadow in those eyes scattered the moment he pulled the trigger. The man’s face melt in the blood bit by bit, and a new face emerged——a smiling face of Mr. Rabbit with its terrifying fangs. Eyes popped, he dropped his gun onto the ground. He covered his face with hands to withdraw himself from it, but was tumbled and fell onto the ground like a timid and fearful fool. Poisonous snakes in the forest were hissing, twining around his ankle and burning into his skin, till finally a deep stigma settled in.

He was beyond terrified. Not because of the man he killed, but the damn rabbit.

 

 

6.

When he found Rustin Cohle, the man was chased by a silly detective, whom he heard buzzing “Rust, you gonna hear this.” The man called Rust responded him with silence like always. He stood and looked from a distance through the window glass and ran a fully scan on the seemingly-never-changed calmness and the indifferent look of the man. He recalled the sudden fire from that man and their completely unexpected encounter. Bravo. _Rust._ He mumbled to himself and let the word running through his teeth and rubbing his lips. Finally he smiled. 

 

7.

His wound was getting better. Finally the decision came for he had to leave the doctor stuffed in the fridge and find another house, which was not so easy while he was short of money and was still on the wanted list. So he chose to make it simple——he won the right of habitation of a top floor residence in some apartment by playing his most commonly used trick. Only this time he did not empty the fridge for the single mistress——he had learned his lesson and bought a lot of meats in advance, stuffed them into the fridge, and saved a little room for few vegetables as well—— still, balanced diets weight a lot.

He settled in the couch after a hot bath. Beers and hams were laying on the table. He could sense his feeling getting better while switching on the TV. Just look, what a wonderful thing to be the neighbor of Rust.

 

 

8.

Through the peephole, he saw Rust opened the door with his key. The detective was a little hunched in the back, and looked rather tired and indifferent. It was already midnight, but still early on the detective's timetable. Most of the time when he thought he was about to check in with Mr. Rabbit, the sound of Rust opening the door would pull him back. He would wake up immediately even when the sound was as quiet as a needle dropping on the ground. He did not know whether he should hate Rust for disturbing his sleep nor should he be grateful to the man for saving him from meeting with Mr. Rabbit.

 

 

9.

Clearly, Rust is not that kind of person that pays attention to his neighbor, not even a little. During the endless two weeks after Mickey took place of the woman and became his neighbor, Rust never noticed any change——at least that was what Mickey thought. Rust was a perfect representative for those who did not have regular patterns. Mickey could not find any chance to break into the man’s house.

But he used to live in the forest. Hiding and waiting ain’t nothing to him. He knew he would find the right timing to bite Rust on the neck, and it wouldn't kept him waiting for too long.

 

10.

At first, he did want to kill Rust. The bullet he gave him had caused so much pain and wounded him so badly that he almost lost his life. A through-and-through is not easy to recover, and as the medicines were running out, he got upset constantly and could barely hold himself from grabbing an ax to smash down the man’s door. Every single intense pain reminded him to catch Rust, hang him up like slaughtered pigs, put several holes like the one in his shoulder into his body, and watch him die slowly and in agony, while he will pull a couch in front of him and chewing popcorns. He could definitely find himself in a terrific mood if that really happens, and he might even slow the bleeding for a little to keep the man from dying too soon. God gave him the right to kill. The divinity, the beauty, and the fear that death brings simply does not exist.

 

 

11.

It was another night when rainstorm was pouring, he heard Rust talking in the hallway at around 3.

Normally he could only hear the sound of Rust walking or him opening the door. But today, he could recognize the whispers of Rust clearly, despite the fact that the rainstorm outside was affecting the clearness of the received sound. He looked through the peephole and saw Rust standing in the hallway, holding a phone. “She's a mother, so she wouldn't have done this——is that what you think?” Calmly, the detective said in a slow and orderly way. “Even an animal as harmless as a rabbit could eat its own pups. Sympathy is meaningless, Marty.”

The detective hung up the phone without saying any other words. But Mickey standing at the door found himself breathing rather rapidly, and his heart was as if being hit hard by something. This was the first time he heard Rust’s voice. Husky, deep, steady and unhurried, like a voice traveled through several space-times from beyond.

 

 

12.

Again, he was dreaming about the goddamn rabbit with the terrifying fangs and the funny Christmas hat. There was no trace of human on the wasteland. He was weak and helpless, standing alone by himself, watching it approaching little by little towards him.

He was closing his eyes to prepare for another torn-up experience, when a gunshot reached his ear instead. He opened his eyes only to find Rust standing in front of him, holding the gun downward and pointing straightly to the ground. Blood was oozing from beneath the rabbit, which is now lifelessly and disfigured from its former appearance.

“You saved me.” He could felt cold sweat on his forehead, and not sure if this was his own voice.

“Is that what you think?”Rust asked.

He stood up on his feet, legs still feeling soft, but before he could grab Rust’s hand, the man turned around. The detective suddenly vanished from his dream just like how he came, as though he had never appeared. “Goddamn it! No!” He cried out loud and grabbed the gun Rust dropped on the ground and started to shoot aimlessly into the air on the wasteland. He woke up in pain and with a head of cold sweat when the bullet shells dropped on the ground. He opened his eyes and found himself still kneeling on the floor and leaning against the door, the very same posture when he was eavesdropping Rust’s phone call.

 

11.

He could feel his temperature rising. He knew even in dreams, his excitement was real. He was shivering and waiting for the husky and deep voice echoing slowly in the forest. Every time, every single time, its owner would follow closely up and appear out of nowhere, with no hurry or fear, holding a gun to shoot Mr. Rabbit dead. Finally there was peace in that forest, he and other animals no longer need to worry about those fangs, which would bury deep into their necks. The tattoo on Rust’s arm was the source of the magic, and that rabbit hunter in the forest became his hero.

 

12.

Once again in a stormy night, he heard the sound of Rust taking out keys in the corridor. He could see through the peephole that Rust stopped. The man was standing there, totally drenched——no umbrella with him, like always. But for a moment, those eyes were staring aimlessly towards the end of the corridor as if they had spotted something, or probably nothing. At that moment, the detective looked like nothing but a lost soul. 

What are you looking at, Rust? He whispered. He saw Rust turned around his head, looking right through the peephole on Mickey’s door, and staring directly into his eyes. It was the first time their eyes met in real sense. His breath stopped. He even stepped back at first, but not like he was afraid of or worried about the possibility that he had been found. Soon he held his breath and movement together, grinned towards the man with easiness and pleasure. Excitement, inexplicable excitement hoarded inside him year after year, had now finally exploded.

 

13.

He had been thinking a lot about how he and Rust might meet again. A face-to-face reunion. “Hi Rust.” He said, “Glad to see you.” And Rust would then pull out his pistol and blow his brains out. The blood splashed randomly and stained on the wall to form the latest fashionable patterns, which could save Rust a great lot of expenses for wallpapers.

He rarely dreamed about Mr. Rabbit now. Waiting and listening to the sound of Rust walking in the dark had become his new entertainment: this was far more interesting than killing.

 

 

14.

However after that, since which day he could not remember, he had never again heard the sound of Rust coming home in the middle of the night. One day he even stood outside the door all night, but the slim and tall figure of the detective never showed up.

 

15.

Out of nowhere, Mr. Rabbit, the diehard monster with a Christmas hat, came into his dream once again. Ferocious like always, with fangs so sharp as though they had been taken care of by a dentist. But this time he was not so terrified. Rust would come. Before the monster could bite him.

But then he screamed out an insult. Fuck. The pain. He was struck down by the monster. The fangs tore his shoulders apart first , then approached towards his throat. The overtaken smell of blood stirred the familiar fear, and instantly he was overwhelmed in that emotion. He was torn into pieces, but Rust, his hero had abandoned him, not a single hair of him showed up.

 

 

16.

The time when he woke up, he was standing on the floor on bare feet, and was certain that Rust had not been home for three days. Maybe it was because some maniac had worn the detective out, or maybe the detective had just moved out without noticing his neighbor——which was more like him. But really, what if the man had gone for good?

He burst into laughter on that thought. That could not be possible. He needed to get rid of that monster once and for all. He needed that hunter in the forest. This time, what his hero, his Rustin Cohle had owned him was not merely the bullet that pierced through his shoulder. He needed to make sure that Rust would never leave again.

 

17.

And then, the fifth night came. Again, there was a storm. He heard the footsteps of Rust amid the overwhelming rainfall. He knew he was right when he saw the face of the detective. Rust seemed exhausted, he walked slowly and firmly, but was all drenched by the rain——the detective seemed to have never known the thing called umbrella, every time when the storms came he would come back like he had just come out of the ocean.

He was standing right behind the door, and just as the detective was taking out his keys, he opened the only thing that stood between them. The slight noise caused by the pivot broke the silence. He was standing there, grinning to Rust with so much politeness and friendliness that he could never imagine himself to possess. “Hi Rust.” He said, “Glad to meet you.”

 

13.

Back in those days, the forest was not a forest, but a barren saline land. His father was standing in the center of the land and saying to him, “Look, this is fate.” And then he was shot in the head by a bullet came out of thin air. He looked towards where his father fell down, only to find nothing but overran weeds all around him. He could feel his body stiffening. That was his first enconter with Mr. Rabbit.

 

14.

Limited materials in the cosmos will finally be worn out through infinite changes, and human upon all others are the most unworthy link to pay attention to. Just like now if he would kill Rust right here, the consequence might only be a few days’ news, and the matter of how long that would last might have to depend on how cruel his method was. Rust was strong and dangerous. He could even feel the pain of his own finger being broken by the man. That was purely amazing. Clearly, God loves him. The hunter, he had been craving for so long, were about to become his slave.

 

15.

They were tangled with each other, and their bleeding faces were so close that they seemed like a couple of intimate partners hugging when looked from distance. This was his first time to see Rust in such a close distance. That slim but tough body had been struggling for too long under his suppression, and had brought out too much unexpected resistance. Yes, resistance. He put his hand over Rust’s chest. He can felt the leaps of life clapping vividly against his palm, very much unlike those seemingly indifferent and emotionless eyes of his. “Gotcha, hunter.” He said, “I’ve been waiting for you in the forest for so long. Help me.”

“What?” That husky and calm voice of Rust was so close.

“Kill him.”

“Who?”

“You’ve seen him in my dreams, haven’t you?...”Before he could finish his words, Rust spit on his face, stone-faced, got rid of his arm and punched deeply and violently into Mickey's face.

 

16.

 

He was almost turned over by that, but he managed to returning the favor to Rust with an even heavier blow. Then he shrugged and wiped his face, using one hand to cover the man’s mouth, and leaning downward to lick the blood on the side of the unconscious detective’s face. He could taste Rust’s body was tightened silently under his tongue, but the expected resistance came soon after that. He had to give another blow to the man and borrowed his handcuffs to make himself relax a little bit.

The rusty smell of the blood were twisting and spreading between them. He could see Rust closed his eyes, and opened them again with much exhaustion. The detective, who had hated to be out of control, now had to gave up all of his rights of control. He knelt down in front of Rust, a hand firmly strangled on the man’s throat. “Don’t worry.” He said devotedly and peacefully. “Kill it, only you can finish this.” Rust’s body was again tightened under his movement, but he showed him no mercy. “We are to become one, and fear is gonna lose its shelter for good.”

 

17.

He tore Rust apart. He can feel the tremble and the accompanying burning heat coming from the man’s body, that was how he knew Rust was about to be marked with his stigma. The only hunter, his hero, who can kill Mr. Rabbit, had now become his property. Combining the two souls into one was his only salvation. He could not help thinking about the possibility that he might be able to find the future he abandoned in the forest ahead of time if he had met Rust a few years earlier.

 

18.

He met Rust again in the forest. The man was holding a gun in his hand, his body was covered with scars and his eyes were indifferent and tired. The hunter was looking for Mr.Rabbit. At least that was what he thought. He found Rust turned around and was pointing the gun at his forehead. He saw his own face in those apathetic eyes. It was a face with long fluffy ears and a ludicrous Christmas hat, as well as the terrifying, creepy fangs. He looked around, and found no one else but himself. The shadow in Rust’s eyes could only be his. Then the forest was gone, and was taken place by the cold ground and the dark space. The gun was against his forehead. His sweat, interwoven with his tears, streamed slowly down his cheek.

“I would not be locked up in dreams of some lunatic.”

“Yeah, Rust,” he grinned, “that’s good.”

 

19.

He was laying there, watching Rust, which was covered in blood, struggled to his feet to dial for the second number. “Marty,” the man said, “my house, now.” Then he slided back down at the table due to the weakness in his knee. Their eyes met in the dark, then Rust raised up his gun once again, and this time a bullet was shot into his shoulder, where the wound were never healed. 

 

20.

He could remember himself eating up all the animals in the forest, till not a thing left. He was standing in the emptiness in the center of the forest, taking off his Christmas hat. His golden hair had been shaved off and the tattoo of entwined poisonous snakes on his collarbone were hissing and kissing each other. Not far from him, in the bushes, a handsome stag was watching him in silence, the antlers on its head looked like a crisscrossed net. _Mr. Rabbit._ He heard it calling him that, with the familiar husky, deep voice and slow tone of Rust. _I am here, Rust._ He smiled and stroked the naked back of the girl bound hand and foot. People will always be reborn to live the same life and dream the same dream over and over and over again. He would prepare a strong rope for Rust in the dreams of his. This should never ends.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've just written down everything that had come over my mind. Please do ignore the details like the apartment mentioned in this article had never appeared in those True Detective TV series :）


End file.
